HPDBC Chapter 209 Cannes Premiere: A Tenderness That Shocked the World
Chapter 209 Cannes Premiere: A Tenderness That Shocked the World
Chapter 209 Cannes Premiere: A Tenderness That Shocked the World
Cannes, France.
Outside the prestigious Lumière Theatre, flashbulbs lit up the red carpet as if it were daytime. Top filmmakers, critics, and distributors from around the world gathered there.
As a major contender in the main competition, "Kikujiro's Summer" held its grand official premiere here.
The VIP viewing area inside the theater.
Jackie Chan, Leslie Cheung, and Tony Leung sat in a row. Across the aisle, Hollywood's maverick directors Quentin Tarantino and John Travolta were also seated. They had all come to support the event at the invitation of Shin Kitahara and Takeshi Kitano.
Leslie Cheung looked at the movie brochure printed in French in his hand and whispered to Tony Leung next to him.
"Although Mr. Kitahara gave a brief introduction in the car that day, saying that this is a heartwarming road movie that focuses on healing, I still find it incredible as I sit here now. Mr. Kitahara's previous yakuza movies were so intense, and director Takeshi Kitano's style is also known for its coldness and violence. These two people with yakuza genes etched into their bones actually made a movie full of fairy tale elements."
Tony Leung smiled.
"Yes, this extreme contrast is the hardest to handle. If not handled carefully, it can come across as affected and pretentious. I'm really looking forward to seeing how they handle this emotional shift."
Jackie Chan sat beside him, his face full of anticipation.
"When he told me that there were no action scenes or fights in it, I was a little disappointed. But to be honest, a heartwarming film that gets selected for the main competition at Cannes must have a very strong script. I'm going to see just how substantial Kitahara's story really is."
On the other side, Quentin waved directly to Kitahara Shin in the back row and shouted something.
Quentin: "Guys! Let me see the tenderness you've hidden!"
This loud shout drew the attention of several European filmmakers nearby.
There is an extremely high level of anticipation for this film. This stark contrast between knowing the subject matter beforehand and being filled with curiosity about "how it will be presented" only heightens everyone's appetite.
At 8 p.m. sharp, the lights in the theater slowly went out.
The big screen lights up.
The movie officially begins. There is no gang shootout as everyone expected, nor any cold-blooded gunfights.
As the boy Masao appeared running on the screen, Joe Hisaishi's masterpiece piano score, "Summer," poured into the entire Lumière Theatre like the first rays of morning sunlight.
The light, bouncy melody, full of summer vibes and innocence, captivated the entire audience in just a few seconds.
The plot unfolds slowly.
Takeshi Kitano plays the role of Kikujiro, a scoundrel middle-aged man. He is foul-mouthed, idle, loses everything betting on bicycle races, and even extorts money from people at bus stops.
A few soft chuckles rippled through the audience. This portrayal of ordinary people, imbued with Takeshi Kitano's signature dry humor, was incredibly realistic and vivid.
As the middle-aged man and the reclusive boy searching for his mother embark on their journey, the core of the film begins to unfold like peeling an onion.
Along the way, they encountered all sorts of people: a kind hotel owner, a strange couple in a campervan, and two seemingly menacing gangsters who were actually playing childish games with a little boy.
Takeshi Kitano uses an extremely restrained yet dryly humorous cinematic language to perfectly capture the "ultimate gentleness" in Nobu Kitahara's script.
When Masao finally stood in front of the house by the sea after going through countless hardships, only to find that his biological mother had already started a new family and had other children, the scene of the little boy turning away and silently shedding tears instantly silenced the air in the theater.
To comfort the boy, Kikujiro snatched a bell with angel wings.
"This is an angel's bell. If you ring it, an angel will come to your aid."
A clumsy, rascally-looking uncle tries to mend a little boy's broken childhood in his extremely crude, even comical, way.
This profound sense of healing transcends national borders and language barriers.
Leslie Cheung, sitting in the front row, had slightly reddened eyes. Jackie Chan's smile faded, replaced by an extremely serious expression. Quentin Tarantino was completely engrossed in watching.
At this moment, Kitahara Shin, sitting in the back row, quietly watched the big screen.
By the dim light reflected from the screen, he could clearly see the reactions of the top filmmakers in the front row, sometimes laughing out loud, sometimes secretly wiping away tears.
The people sitting in this theater are not ordinary popcorn audience members. They are top European film critics, internationally acclaimed directors, and award-winning actors and actresses who have seen countless films. Their tastes are extremely discerning and demanding.
But now, all of these people are immersed in the stories he has written.
Kitahara Shin felt a long-lost sense of primal, pure satisfaction. His creations had genuinely touched the hearts of these important figures, earning their unconditional approval. This sense of accomplishment and exhilaration as a creator was indescribable, beyond the reach of money or words.
The movie is coming to an end.
Masao, carrying a backpack with an angel bell, loudly asked the old man his name.
Kikujiro looked at him and answered with a string of curses.
Kikujiro: "Kikujiro! Get the hell out of here!"
As Joe Hisaishi's variation on "Summer" reached its climax, the film froze, and the end credits began to roll.
A brief silence.
In those few eerily quiet seconds, the entire Lumière Theatre seemed to be gripped by a soul-stirring force. Until the very last second of the film, until the man called out his own name, the more than two thousand top filmmakers, judges, and film critics in the audience were as if they had experienced an electric shock, and suddenly understood!
It turns out that the title of this movie, "Kikujiro's Summer," doesn't refer to the summer of the little boy Masao at all, but rather to the summer of the middle-aged man "Kikujiro"!
On the surface, it seems that this foul-mouthed, irresponsible middle-aged man is accompanying the boy on his search for his mother, attempting to heal the boy's broken childhood in a clumsy and comical way. But in reality, the man himself is an orphan abandoned by his mother at a young age. In this summer journey full of surprises and absurdities, it is actually the boy's pure innocence that heals this irritable, decadent, and emotionally scarred middle-aged man.
This is not a one-way rescue, but a mutual redemption between two abandoned souls that transcends age.
This is the deepest and most breathtaking tenderness that Kitahara Shin hid in the script!
"Whoosh!"
The next second, applause erupted like a sudden thunderstorm inside the Lumière Theatre.
More than two thousand audience members, judges, and film critics stood up from their seats without prior arrangement.
Jackie Chan, Leslie Cheung, Quentin Tarantino, and others led the way in standing up and applauding vigorously. Tears welled in Leslie Cheung's eyes; he was utterly captivated by the sophisticated script structure. Quentin Tarantino was even more excited, his face flushed, clapping wildly and shouting "Genius!"
The applause was thunderous and lasted for a full ten minutes.
Takeshi Kitano's eyes were red, and he pulled Shin Kitahara to his feet, bowing to the audience around them.
Across the aisle, Quentin gave Kitahara Shin a thumbs-up and whistled loudly. After watching the film, he had a profound understanding of Kitahara Shin's talent. Someone who can switch effortlessly between extreme violence and extreme tenderness is truly a genius.
Jackie Chan looked at Kitahara Shin standing not far away and nodded repeatedly. This young man not only had the ruthlessness to make commercial action films, but also reached an extremely astonishing level in artistic achievement.
The veteran European film critics around me were frantically flipping through the brochures in their hands, asking each other questions in French and English.
Who was the lead screenwriter for this film?
"Kitahara Shin? Just who is this young man?"
On this night, Kikujiro's Summer completely conquered Cannes.
Kitahara Shin's name was officially registered in the core international film industry.
a few days later.
The Cannes Film Festival held a grand closing ceremony and awards presentation.
At the closing ceremony of Cannes, the various awards were announced one by one.
Kikujiro's Summer lived up to expectations, standing out among many strong competitors and winning the "Jury Grand Prize" in the main competition.
The moment the presenter read out the film's title in French, the entire audience erupted in applause.
Takeshi Kitano strode onto the podium.
After receiving the heavy trophy from the presenter, he didn't rush to the microphone to give his acceptance speech. Instead, he turned to look at the audience and waved to Kitahara Shin.
Takeshi Kitano: "Come on up, my first screenwriter."
Kitahara Shin straightened his suit, calmly walked onto the stage, and came to Kitano Takeshi's side.
-
Takeshi Kitano looked at the young man before him and suddenly grinned. He lowered his voice, his tone carrying a rare hint of emotion.
"Remember when we finished filming 'Violent Cop' and received the Blue Ribbon Award in Taiwan? On stage, I handed you the trophy to deal with the media photos. You smiled brightly at the cameras, but once you got off the stage, didn't you still have to obediently return the trophy to me?"
Takeshi Kitano paused for a moment, then solemnly handed the Cannes Film Festival trophy, a symbol of the highest honor in the world of cinema, to Shin Kitahara.
"But now, you can accept this trophy openly and honestly, without having to return it. You could say that this film is entirely your masterpiece, and you deserve more credit than I do."
Kitahara Shin listened to Kitano Takeshi's somewhat江湖-style banter and reflections, and shook his head with a smile.
"There's no need to be so sentimental, director."
Then, he changed the subject, his tone calm and resolute.
"However, you're right."
He reached out and steadily accepted the trophy. Then, Kitahara Shin turned around, facing the sea of top international filmmakers below the stage, and revealed his own smile under the dazzling spotlight.
This smile was completely different from the one she wore at the Blue Ribbon Awards ceremony.
Back then, although he was also on stage, he was still inexperienced and needed to rely on Takeshi Kitano's protection and fame, whether winning awards or on set. His smile then carried a hint of opportunism and cooperation; but now, his smile is truly confident, calm, and composed.
Because he knew that this honor not only did not need to be returned to anyone, but he would also be the one to write the rules from now on.
Facing the flashing cameras of global media, he stood tall and proud, radiating confidence. This image, filled with composure and absolute self-assurance, was captured by countless cameras and transmitted back to all parts of the world overnight.
At the official celebration banquet following the awards ceremony.
Quentin, carrying two glasses of champagne, squeezed through the crowd and found Kitahara Shin.
"Dude, congratulations! That movie was fantastic. But what about what we talked about at the bar the other day? What's your opinion?"
Kitahara Shin accepted the champagne and clinked glasses with him.
"I already have a rough idea in my mind."
Quentin immediately perked up and leaned closer to listen.
Kitahara Shin simply presented a few core elements.
Shin Kitahara: "A female assassin in a yellow tracksuit, a Japanese katana, and extreme blood-soaked revenge. Then comes the second half: a desert highway, a roll cage muscle car, a perverted stuntman who likes to cause car crashes through high-speed driving, and several strong women who fight back against him."
Upon hearing this outline of violent aesthetics that blended elements of Kill Bill and Destroy King, Quentin's eyes instantly lit up like searchlights. He slapped his thigh.
"Genius! This is practically tailor-made for me! I'll direct it myself, you'll be the co-writer, and we'll even give you the coolest yakuza boss role!"
The two reached a verbal agreement on the spot.
Not long after, Jackie Chan also came over with a wine glass in his hand.
"Brother Kitahara, congratulations on winning the award. If we have the chance in the future, we must collaborate on a big action film in Asia. I'll handle the funding and action choreography, and you can take care of the script and the Japanese domestic market."
Kitahara Shin smiled and agreed.
"It's a deal, Jackie Chan."
Of course, Kitahara was very clear-headed. Whether it was the crazy ideas with Quentin Tarantino or the Asian action film plan with Jackie Chan, these so-called verbal agreements obviously couldn't be put into practice immediately after returning to Japan.
Everyone in this industry is incredibly busy, with their own established filming schedules and vast career empires. It's impossible for them to prioritize this impromptu collaboration immediately. In some ways, this agreement made at the celebratory banquet is more like a "pie in the sky"—a mutual expression of admiration among colleagues.
But for Kitahara Shin, that was enough.
In this world of fame and fortune, the most important things are the ticket to entry and attitude. With such a clear intention to cooperate and such a friendly foundation of communication, the possibility of both parties reaching an agreement and implementing cooperation when the time is right and he truly wants to make the "pie" a reality is extremely high.
This is equivalent to planting an extremely important seed in the world's top circles in advance.
Bearing the weighty honors from the three major European film festivals, Kitahara Shin and his entourage boarded a transoceanic flight back to Japan.
Meanwhile, Japan was already in a frenzy over the news of the victory at Cannes.
The plane landed at Narita International Airport.
Kitahara Shin was stunned by the terrifying scene before him as soon as he stepped out of the VIP passage.
The entire arrival hall was packed to the brim. Hundreds of reporters with their cameras and microphones, and thousands of screaming fans completely blocked the way. The frequency of the flashes was so high that it was impossible to open one's eyes.
Reporters, holding recording pens, pushed their way forward, shouting questions.
Reporter: "Mr. Kitahara! Congratulations on winning the Cannes Film Festival Award! As the lead screenwriter, what are your thoughts now?"
Reporter: "Director Kitano, what role did Mr. Kitahara play in the scriptwriting process?"
This overwhelming media frenzy was a complete and utter blow to the Japanese domestic film and television industry.
Those academic filmmakers and veteran film critics who used to hide behind newspaper columns and always subtly criticize Kitahara Shin for "only having a high school education" and for "relying purely on commercial hype" and "lacking proper artistic foundation" all fell into dead silence at this moment.
The Grand Jury Prize in the main competition at Cannes is an insurmountable mountain.
Shin Kitahara is no longer the commercial star whose education and background can be commented on at will. He is a true "master" creator who has returned with the highest international honors. Anyone who dares to question his scripts and artistic merit in the newspapers now is publicly questioning the judgment of the entire Cannes jury.
Amidst a flurry of flashing lights, Kitahara Shin smiled and waved to the media before getting into the bulletproof van sent by his company.
The praise from the outside world was deafening.
However, amidst this frenzy of praise for Kitahara Shin, a small minority remains stubbornly refusing to admit their wrongdoing. The most typical example is lawyer Yoshioka, who was previously humiliated by Kitahara Shin on a television program.
Inside a high-end law firm in Tokyo.
Yoshioka, holding a hand-ground coffee, glanced at the photo of Kitahara Shin holding the trophy on the front page of the newspaper on his desk.
He wasn't as furious as others might have imagined. After all, he was a lawyer, earning his living from capitalists' fees; who won awards in the film industry was none of his concern. To him, his previous provocation of Kitahara Shin on television was merely a convenient way to ride the coattails of a top star's popularity and generate some buzz for himself.
When the young assistant at the law firm looked at the newspaper and couldn't help but marvel at Kitahara Shin's unparalleled genius, Yoshioka merely snorted dismissively and made a few casual comments.
"Winning a major film festival award is indeed impressive, but it only shows that he does have artistic talent. Being able to write screenplays and know how to stir up the audience's emotions is completely different from being able to understand rigorous and rigid legal provisions. The National Judicial Examination is a scientific standard, and the examiners will not give him an extra point just because he is an international star."
Yoshioka didn't care how glamorous Kitahara Shin was in the entertainment industry; all he needed to do was stick to the "judicial exam."
In his and his conservative group's view, with only two months of review, challenging the grueling exam with a pass rate of only two percent, Kitahara Shin's failure was an undeniable fact. They didn't need to do anything extra; they only needed to quietly wait for the results to be released and watch this seemingly invincible young giant falter in his professional field. That would be enough for them to laugh at him and save face.